


come on and wait another year for dreams far away to come home, to be brave

by Waistcoat35



Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [13]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: "Sorry I'm late."
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	come on and wait another year for dreams far away to come home, to be brave

**Author's Note:**

> Though it's a little late, this is dedicated to @annabellblood2002 on tumblr as a birthday present - what would we do without our favourite archivist?

It's only the telltale smirk on Daisy's face that lets him know something's going on. He's probably looked as though he were moping around all day, but nevertheless he's glad that hasn't made her tiptoe around him - he'd been expecting Richard hours ago, only for him to phone and say that there were last-minute repairs to be done on the track, and all trains northwards to York were cancelled until further notice. He'd already asked for a half-day off, too, and spent it wandering around Thirsk to look for something to enclose in his next letter (a fruitless endeavour) and doing odd jobs around the Abbey so that they wouldn't pile up. Now, he sets down the crate he'd brought in for Mrs Patmore from the pantry and raises an eyebrow at Daisy quizzically.

"I suppose I should ask what's got you looking like the cat what's got the cream?" She tilts her head, shrugs.

"You don't _have_ to, if you don't want to know..." She's got him there - he cannot let his nosiness be challenged. He lets his mouth slouch and curl downwards at the corner, eyebrows no longer raised, so he has a mock-flat expression.

"Alright, then, go on."

"If you're _sure._ "

"Daisy!"

She giggles to herself, and then nods backwards towards the servants' hall window. "S'pose you might want to look out there, if you want to find out." Brow furrowed in confusion, he does.

There is a very familiar figure standing just beyond the reach of the light from inside, the tip of one shoe almost straying into the warm yellow rectangle that illuminates some of the courtyard. He tries to suppress whatever the noise he makes is, but he probably doesn't succeed, because when he glances to his right Daisy's smirking properly now where she sits (and why does he feel like she's copied the way it sits on her face from him?). "And how," he asks, "might you have known about that?" She fetches a nonchalant shrug from somewhere that _definitely_ came from him, closing her eyes as she does with a teasing smile.

"Might've had a phone call while you were serving upstairs earlier. I knew he'd phoned you a bit before noon and it might be him again, so I nicked the phone before one of the others could do it and scare him off. He said he'd make it but he wasn't sure what time he'd get here, so I promised to keep it secret so's we could surpise you."

"You did, did you?" He smiles, shaking his head, as he heads towards the back door. "Little sod..." he murmurs.

"Oi! This little sod's the one who's keeping watch for you while you're out there having your happy hour!"

"Alright," he drawls, before easing the door shut. It's well into the late evening by now, and apart from the light from that one window the courtyard is hard to make out the details of in the dark. They hadn't, of course, been expecting anyone else by now, so the outside lights are all off - none can bounce off the hood of the car and draw attention. (The car is presumably Richard's father's, the only one who lets Richard steal it on a regular basis to come up here and ferry Thomas about like something from a Fitzgerald novel. As much as he would once have hated to admit it, it all makes Thomas feel as though he is being thoroughly and painstakingly wooed.) 

He says nothing as he walks towards Richard, the only sound the soft crunch of his shoes on the gravel, and even that's quieter than it would be on anyone else. (Light on his feet - isn't that what he once told Mrs Hughes?) He ought to call out something cheeky - a "Hello, stranger," perhaps, or a "nice wheels". Be his usual gift-from-God self. But it's all he can do to conceal how suddenly breathless he feels, so Thomas without the gaudy packaging will have to do. After this much time he has an inkling that Richard won't mind that as much as he'd worry about anyone else minding it.

He comes to a stop in front of him. Richard has managed to stay leaning against his bloody car the whole time, the poser, but Thomas hasn't missed how he'd straightened up slightly as he got nearer. He looks up the half-inch or so that Richard's eye level rises above his own, and just as he is congratulating himself on being able to even manage that, Richard gets the better of him again. 

"Hello, there," he breathes in this hushed, _delighted_ tone, looking at Thomas with something akin to wonder, eyes shiny, mouth curled upwards, and Thomas suddenly feels so fucking _shy_. 

"Hello," he whispers back, and he has to glance downwards, because he's quite sure he's already blushing and if he looks at the face Richard's making for any longer he'll flush until it's visible even in the dark. He can feel a pleased little smile making it's way onto his face without permission. He glances back up, fixing his gaze a little below Richard's eyeline, somewhere around his cheekbone. Suddenly, he gets the most ridiculous urge to kiss it, and in a burst of boldness he lifts a hand to curl at the junction between Richard's shoulder and neck, uses it to pull himself up as he leans on his toes and gives him a peck on the cheekbone. 

It lasts a little longer than perhaps it should, because he can't quite bring himself to draw away too soon, but when he does Richard lets out a huff of breath, and somehow Thomas knows he's blushing as well. "Was that - alright?" He asks, because he has to. His middle initials should be the letters 'N' 'C' and 'R' for 'Needs Constant Reassurance', for God's sake. 

Richard raises his eyebrows, in just the same way as _is that what you've found, Mr Barrow. A friend. "_ Mm _,_ I'd certainly say so, darling. Would you like your marks out of ten?" 

"Go on, then." And just like that, Richard is leaning forward, and his arm migrates until his hand is across the stretch of Thomas' jawbone, the side of his neck, smoothing across the folds of the skin when he tilts his head to the side, and they're kissing, properly kissing, right in the bloody courtyard, and he lets himself go limp, lets himself just enjoy it, because Daisy had said she'd keep watch and he trusts her to hold herself to her promise. He registers very very dimly that he never took his hand from Richard's shoulder that first time, and he slings the other arm over the other shoulder, stands on his toes again and kisses back. 

When they part, in a way not so much final as reassuring, temporary - he knows it'll happen again in the same way that the sand knows the sea will wash back over it - he's dazed, blinking sluggishly. Richard is right there, after all, so he decides to simply tuck his head under Richard's chin and just rest it there a while. He faces no objection. "Out of curiosity, what mark did that translate to? Know which one I'd give it, course, but I wanted your opinion."

"It was supposed to be a twelve," Richard says, "which I'm hoping you noticed."

"Then I'd have said a thirteen, but. Unlucky number."

"Might have make it a fourteen, then, hm?"

Thomas gives a little huff of a laugh, feels Richard twitch as the breath tickles his neck. "D'you know what, I might just have to." Then, because he always feels hazy and sweet and not altogether like himself at times like this, when Richard is there and overwhelming to be near in the best of ways, and also because he might be turning into a little bit of a complete bloody lunatic, he nuzzles his nose against Richard's throat. "Missed you." 

Richard sighs, but it's contented. The sigh of someone who's wanted something for a good long while, but doesn't mind the wait because they've got it now. "Missed you too, Thomas. Always. Every day." He takes advantage of Thomas' raised arms wrapped around him to do the same to Thomas, looping his own arms under Thomas' and around his torso, one soothing up and down. "Sorry I'm late."

Thomas shakes his head. "Don't be silly. Glad you're here at all. Didn't think you'd make it."

"I very nearly didn't. But once the line reopened they put just the one late train on, for any stragglers who were still waiting to get it. From there, I walked to my parents' and borrowed dad's car again. They listen to the wireless for an hour after tea and then go to bed, so I didn't want to put dad out and have him drive me." 

Thomas draws back slightly, looks up in amused disbelief. "You nicked it, didn't you?" 

Richard looks sheepish enough that it's an immediate yes. "Well..." If he weren't apparently so reluctant to stop holding Thomas to his chest, he'd be rubbing the back of his neck, that familiar little tic he does when he's lying. When he's lying to Thomas, anyway, which is in itself so rare Thomas isn't sure how he knows Richard's tell for it. 

"You did! You _nicked_ your dad's car!" He can't keep the delight out of his voice. 

"Sacrifices had to be made, Thomas. In this case, they were his. Besides, he's used to it, he'll have just assumed that that's what happened."

"Wait - you nicked your dad's car and didn't even tell him?" Richard rolls his eyes.

"Oh, it'll be fine." 

"If you say so."

"I do." And then they're kissing again, like a couple of lovelorn teenagers. After a while, Daisy taps on the window, and when they turn Thomas thinks he sees her mouth "Carson" - and indeed, this is the night he's coming to pick up Mrs Hughes. They have a few minutes, not quite long enough to move the car without it drawing attention if he's already coming up the path, so instead they slip off down the side of the wall into further shadow. They maintain a distance while they watch out for him coming into the courtyard, but it's a comfortable one, tucked into a dark corner where they won't be noticed so long as they keep quiet. 

"Look at you," Richard murmurs, mouth barely moving, "influencing me already. Teaching me how to lurk." He gets a snort in return.

"I hardly invented the sport."

"No, but you champion in it."

"Shove off," and then there's a light, goodnatured scuffle of the schoolboy type in which they both nudge into the other's side to send them slightly off-balance. Rather than ending when one of them is successfully knocked over, it comes to a close when Thomas gives a light shiver in the cool may evening, and Richard pulls him closer again with a hand at his waist. He doesn't protest.

Carson comes and goes, not noticing them, as predicted. Mrs Hughes takes a cursory glance around as she walks with him, and Thomas thinks he sees the moment that she picks up on someone being there, but she says nothing, only gives a sort of nod before turning around and keeping Carson distracted and talking. They slip inside quickly.

It's still quiet in the house. The Bates' have gone home, and Albert is off visiting his family for a few days. Mrs Patmore's already gone up, as has Baxter, and it's only Daisy up to make something for the start of the pudding tomorrow, and Andy waiting to walk her back to the farm. It's an easy matter to sneak Richard in, and, safe in the knowledge they won't be heard or disturbed, they sit on Thomas' bed with some leftovers from the upstairs dinner supplied by Daisy. Their legs and knees press together, side by side as they talk about wonderful nothings, and eventually Thomas nods off with his head pillowed on Richard's shoulder. He wakes again briefly to Richard shifting them to the pillows, and is shushed and soothed asleep again as the duvet is drawn over them, an arm draped protectively over his side.

Hours on, he wakes to the silver-grey of pre-dawn, to Richard stroking the less-silver-more-grey hairs at his temples back with one hand. He curls in closely for a few more minutes, sharing the same warmth, the same breaths, but Downton is still Downton, and Richard has to start getting ready in order to be gone by the time Mrs Patmore is awake. Thomas sees him off, risking a last hug and a kiss in the courtyard, and as the car disappears he doesn't feel so lonely as he used to every time he woke up before he needed to and knew nobody else was awake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I wrote this alternating between Sleeping At Last songs and fucking My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion and none of you losers are allowed to judge me for it. what are you looking at. leave me alone. I just finished Simon Vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda so I'm in the mood for high romance. What of it.


End file.
